Flight 219
by Connor Guidry
Summary: A pilot is killed before a plane boards. The killer is unknown


Flight 219

Connor Guidry

Prologue

O'Hare International Airport, 6:57 AM, October 11, 2007

The hum of the air conditioning flowed throughout the plane. Inside the galley, the flight attendant was heating coffee while mumbling a tune. All was quiet. In

the lavatory, co-pilot Brandon Williams sat fixing his tie. The pilot was busy scanning through papers and notes, while the flight engineer sat behind him flipping switches and pressing buttons. The flight engineer got up and walked away to get some coffee for himself and the crew. A gunshot rang out.

"The pilot's been shot!" yelled the flight engineer as he ran through the plane. He ran out the side door, through the gate, and found the airport security.

"Call 911!" He yelled frantically, "The pilot of flight 219 has been shot!"

"Right away, sir!" Responded the security guard, "This is airport security, the pilot of flight 219 has been shot, get the medics to gate B11 right away, I repeat, this is airport security, the pilot of flight 219 has been shot, get the medics to gate B11 right away."

"Copy that, airport security," The radio shot back.

"Oh my God, this is terrible," The flight engineer cried.

The medics came out with a stretcher. The pilot was dead.

"Get the NTSB on the phone," The head of airport security ordered. "This is going to be one hell of a case."

"I know what you mean," said the head assistant as he brought some coffee in. "Cream or sugar?"

"Both," Replied the head of security.

"Sir, the NTSB is on the phone," Called the secretary on the intercom. "They're on line 2."

"Thanks."

"Well, at least things can't get any worse," Said the assistant.

Chapter 1

NTSB Building, Chicago, Illinois, 5:28 PM

It was an unusually cold day in October. The skies were grey, and the city was busy as it normally would be. Connor, a detective for the NTSB, slowly took a sip of his coffee as he sat in his office staring blankly out of the window.

"Mr. Guidry?" The intercom on Connor's desk said.

Connor pushed the button to speak.

"Yes, Lori?" He said.

"Someone would like to see you now," Lori replied, "Should I send them in?"

"Sure, go right ahead," Connor said happily, for he had no company in his office all day.

"It gets _really _boring without any visitors," He said to himself.

There was a beeping noise and the doors to the office opened. Three men walked in. They were all wearing business suits and looked very solemn.

"Can I help you guys with something?" Connor asked.

"Yes, I believe you can, Mr. Guidry," One of the men said in a British accent, "It seems that one of our pilots, Jonathan Roberts, was murdered just before boarding."

"That's terrible," Connor took another sip of coffee, "And what can I do to help?"

"We want you to determine who killed him, of course," The British man said, "By the way, my name is Byron Wells. I work for American Airlines."

"Nice to meet you, Byron," Connor said, "If you want me to solve this crime, though, you'll have to give me some information- you know what, let me see the crime scene before you tell me anything, alright?"

"That's fine with us, as long as you find the killer, we'll be fine," The British man replied.

"Let's head on down to the airport then," Connor said.

"After you, Mr. Guidry," Byron said politely.

The group went down the elevator and headed towards the parking garage. Connor's car was a Jaguar. Connor was particularly interested in fancy cars. They got in the car and drove out.

The airport was bustling as usual. It seemed like a normal day. Connor, Byron, and his assistant walked through security straight to gate B11. It was taped off with 'police line, do not cross'. They went under the tape and into the ramp to the airplane.

"It's a Boeing 737-70,." Byron stated.

"Good," Connor replied, "I used to fly this model back when I was an airline pilot. I'm very familiar with it."

"That should help with the investigation," Byron said.

The group walked into the cockpit and found a man wearing a blue jacket and jeans.

"Who might you be?" Connor asked.

"I'm Mark Davidson. And you are?"

"I'm Connor Guidry, NTSB."

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Guidry," Mark said as he shook Connor's hand, "I'll be your assistant during your investigation."

"Thanks," Connor said, "I'll need all the help I can get."

"Enough with the idle chit-chat, we need to continue with the investigation," Byron said, getting impatient.

Connor scanned the cockpit. As he looked around, a slight breeze blew through the open window.

"Can somebody close this window?" Connor asked, "It's quite cold in here, and I didn't bring a jacket."

Mark closed the window with his gloved hands, so he wouldn't disturb any fingerprints.

"Was the murder weapon found yet?" Connor questioned.

"As of yet, no murder weapon has been found. Our investigative team is all over it," Byron replied.

"The flight engineer, flight attendant, and co-pilot are detained and are being questioned," Mark said, "We're thinking the co-pilot has the best motive to kill the pilot. He says persistently he didn't do it, but if he did, he's a pretty good liar."

"It looks like they were getting ready to board," Connor noticed, "The cabin pressure was already set, and the air conditioning was on."

"Well, it's been a rough week. I'm pretty tired. I think it's time to call it a day." Connor said with a yawn.

"I do believe you are right Mr. Guidry," Byron said, "Anyway I have to file a report for the regional office."

"I'll probably be here all night, so I'll see you guys later," Mark said.

Byron and Connor each went their separate ways. Connor hopped into his jaguar and turned the ignition. The car started with a low rumble. He backed out and drove out of the parking garage. He decided he would go for a late night flight. He started the long drive to Schaumburg Airport.

In about an hour he was there. He got out of his car and walked carelessly to the front office.

"Excuse me," Connor said to the lady at the desk, "I would like to rent a Cessna 172SP please."

"Okay. Just sign your name on this form. The rate is $120 an hour."

"There you go. I'll be back in about 45 minutes," Connor stated as he returned the form.

"Have a nice flight," The lady said as she looked back at her computer to continue her work.

Connor walked out of the office and towards the hangar. It was a foggy night, was quite chilly, so he brought his jacket. When he reached the plane, he opened the cockpit and climbed in. The tail number was N504FA.

After he taxied and took off, he flew straight over O'Hare. It was like a city, with lights sparkling all around. As he circled, he saw something that nobody would ever notice. There was a very small black thing, next to gate B11.

"Hmmm," Connor said to himself, "That's strange. It must be a piece of debris."

He flew directly back to Schaumburg and landed. He taxied to the hangar and parked the Cessna. He hopped out, and walked back to the office to pay for the plane rental. He gave the lady at the desk $120 and waved goodbye. She waved back in response and turned back to her paperwork. Connor got into his car and drove home.

His house was a small apartment with very modern décor. Connor walked in and threw his car keys on the counter. He took off his shoes, fell down on the couch, and turned on the television. In about five minutes he was fast asleep.

Chapter 2

NTSB Building, Chicago, Illinois, October 12, 2007, 5:02 AM

When Connor arrived at his office, there was a stack of papers on the desk. The paper on the top read: Suspect information. Connor sighed. More paperwork, Connor thought, just what I needed. He walked in and sat down. He pushed the intercom button.

"Lori, could you send in some coffee, please?" Connor asked.

"Sure, right away."

While Connor waited for his coffee, he looked out the window. It was sunny, and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. The cars below glistened in the sunlight, as did the windows on the building across the street. There was a knock on the door.

"Come in, Lori," Connor said as the door opened.

"I have your coffee right here."

"Thanks."

He grabbed the cup that Lori gave him and immediately took a sip of it.

"Will that be all?" Lori asked Connor in a shy voice.

"Yeah; But you can stay in here if you want. I would't mind the company."

"Sure. Thanks," Lori replied as she sat down in one of the chairs in the office.

Lori pulled out a book from the shelf and started reading it. It was a book about passenger airliners. Suddenly, the phone rang. Connor picked it up.

"NTSB office of aviation, how may I help you?"

"Hi. This is Kyle Richards, FBI. We have some information regarding the murder of Jonathan Roberts."

"Great. I'll come down right away," Connor replied.

Connor quickly grabbed his keys and waved Lori goodbye as he walked out the door. He got in his Jaguar and drove off to the FBI building in Chicago.

FBI Building, Chicago, Illinois, 5:27 AM

Connor walked in the front doors and walked up to the front desk.

"Hi, I'm looking for Kyle Richards," Connor said to the secretary.

"He's in room 208 on the 5th floor."

"Thanks."

He walked up to the elevator and pressed the up arrow. It must have been at least a minute until the elevator got there. He got in and pushed the '5' button.

"Elevator music is so annoying," Connor thought.

There was a ding and the door opened. He walked to room 208 and knocked on the door.

"Come in," the voice behind the door said.

Connor walked in. The room was very small, but decorated. It reminded one of a study in an old house. Connor sat down in one of the chairs and shook the man's hand.

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Richards," Connor said

"Mr. Guidry, I presume," Kyle said

"Yes, you called me and asked me to come down to your office, correct?"

"Yes, I did," Kyle said, "I'd like you to meet someone. Come with me."

"Sure," Connor said as they strode out the door.

Kyle and Connor entered the crime lab. There was a man of Asian descent sitting in a chair looking through a microscope.

"This is Naota. He's our guy for forensics," Kyle said.

"Hi, Naota," Connor said.

"Hello. And you are?" Naota asked.

"I'm Connor Guidry. I'm with the NTSB, investigating the murder of Jonathan Roberts."

"Hi, Mr. Guidry- or would you like me to call you Connor?" Naota asked.

"Connor is fine."

"We've gathered some information on the murder that I think you'll be interested in," said Naota, "We have a motive for each suspect. Brandon Williams' motive could be that he was jealous of Jonathan's high rank as a pilot. Jane Adams was definitely in love with Jonathan, though he was married, so if she couldn't have him, nobody would. Ryan Holt, the flight engineer was recently turned down for a job as a pilot for American Airlines because Jonathan had more experience than him."

"Well that's interesting. Do you have all that in writing?" Connor said sarcastically.

"Actually, we do. I'll send it to your office," Naota replied.

"Thanks. Oh! I almost forgot! When I was flying a rental plane yesterday I saw something tiny and black, right next to gate B11. I thought it was a piece of debris, so I wasn't very worried," Connor said.

"We'll have to investigate that. Mr. Richards, get the CSI out to gate B11 right away. We can't take any chances. The debris- or whatever it was, might already be gone, so hurry up and get there," Naota said as he picked up his briefcase and walked out the door.

"Will do, Naota," said Kyle.

"It's really that big of a deal?" Connor questioned.

"As Naota said, Connor, we can't take any chances."

Chapter 3

O'Hare International Airport, Chicago, Illinois, 7:21 AM

"Well, look what we have here," said Kyle as he picked up a pistol of the tarmac.

The gun was beginning to rust, and the clip had no bullets in it.

"I'd better get in touch with Connor. I have a feeling that he'll be interested in this," Said Kyle to himself.

NTSB Building, Chicago, Illinois, 7:56 AM

The intercom beeped on Connor's desk. Connor reached down and pushed the button to talk.

"Yes?"

"Mr. Richards would like to see you. He's says it's urgent," Lori replied.

"Send him in."

The door opened and Kyle walked in. He was holding a package.

"Hi there, Kyle. What have you got for me?" Connor said.

"When I was at O'Hare about a half an hour ago, I found a pistol right under gate B11," Kyle said.

"Let me see that," said Connor

Kyle opened the package and inside was a gleaming black gun.

"I took the liberty of cleaning off the rust. But don't worry, there were no fingerprints anywhere on the gun. I triple checked," Said Kyle confidently.

"That's kind of ironic," Connor said.

"What is?" Kyle questioned.

"The fact that the autopsy was completed 5 minutes before you got here. The medical examiner confirmed that it was a gunshot that killed him. The gun was a standard police issue, a 9 millimeter, in case you're not familiar,"

"Well, I feel kind of stupid," Kyle said.

"You should," Connor said jokingly.

"_Very funny_," Kyle said.

Connor and Kyle laughed.

"Anyway, I think I have a hunch on who killed the pilot," Connor said. "But I'm going to have to do some questioning to be sure."

"I have to do some work of my own also. So I'll see you around," Kyle said.

"Bye," Said Connor as Kyle walked out the door.

"Finally, some alone time," Said Connor as he yawned.

"Hi," A voice from behind him greeted.

Connor jumped in surprise. Lori was sitting right behind him.

"How long have you been there?!" Connor said in a startled tone.

"The whole time," Lori giggled.

"How come Kyle didn't see you?" Connor asked in embarrassment.

"A magician never reveals her tricks," Lori said with a laugh.

"Yeah, _right_," Said Connor.

A cell phone rang out in the office. Lori scanned the screen of her cell phone.

"I have to go now. Call me on the intercom if you need anything," Lori said

"I will. Bye," Connor said as he waved at Lori walking out the door.

Connor logged on to his computer. He opened his e-mail and started typing a message to the Chicago Police. It was a request to interrogate one of the suspects. Once he finished, he logged off and left the office. He got in his car and drove to the Chicago police department, where the suspects were being detained.

Chicago Police Department, Chicago, Illinois, 8:05 AM

"Mr. Holt. I have a few questions for you," Connor said as he sat down and pulled some paperwork from his briefcase.

"Sure. Ask me anything," The flight engineer, Ryan Holt, said.

"Are crew member allowed to carry guns, Mr. Holt?" Connor asked in a solemn tone.

"Yes. Ever since January 14, 2007, when the regulations were changed," Ryan said.

"Can you show me your gun, Mr. Holt?" Connor asked.

"Sorry, it's being cleaned," Ryan said.

"Mr. Holt. You're lying to me," Connor stated. "We found your gun outside the plane next to gate B11."

"How would you know if it's mine?" Ryan questioned nervously.

"All of the other crew members had their guns when they were detained," Connor said.

Ryan started shaking.

"I don't want to go to jail!" yelled Ryan as he slammed his fist down on the table.

"Mr. Holt, why did you murder Jonathan?" Connor asked.

"I was jealous, alright!" Ryan shot back as a tear fell from his eye. "I was turned down when I asked to be a pilot! Just because Jonathan had more experience than me!"

Connor stood up and took out a pair of handcuffs.

"You're under arrest for the murder of Jonathan Roberts," Connor said as he handcuffed Ryan.

Tears fell from Ryan's face as he and Connor walked out of the room.

Epilogue

NTSB Building, Chicago, Illinois, October 13, 2007, 12:22 PM

"Glad all that's over," Connor said to Lori as he drank some of his coffee. "I like life a lot more when there's less action. You know what I mean?"

"Yeah," Lori said with a sigh.

Suddenly, the phone rang.

"I bet that's Mark," Connor said as he picked up the phone.

"Hey, Connor. Thanks for solving that case for us," Mark said.

"Just doing my job, Mark, just doing my job," Connor said.

Later that day...

Connor paced back and forth in his office. There was a knock on the door.

"Come in," Connor sighed, tired from his long day.

Lori opened the door and walked in.

"Oh, hi!" Connor said, as if he wasn't expecting her.

"Hi. I have some paperwork for you," Lori said as she put a large stack of papers on Connor's desk.

"Thanks."

Lori opened the door and started to walk out.

"Lori, wait," Connor said in an akward tone," I was just wondering, would you like to go out for dinner with me?"

"Sure!" Lori said as her face lit up.

"Great! How about seven o'clock?" Connor asked.

"Seven o'clock is great," Lori replied,"See you tonight!"

Lori winked at Connor as she walked out the door.

Later that night, around seven o'clock.

"You look great tonight," Connor said to Lori as he sipped his merlot.

"Thanks," Lori says shyly.

A waiter walks up to the table.

"Welcome to Amore Ristorante. May I take your order?"

"Yes, I would like the shrimp liguini alfredo. And you, Lori?"

"I'll have the same,"

"Will that be all?" The waiter says politely.

"Yes,"Connor replied.

The waiter walked away. Connor and Lori looked at each other in silence, knowing that this wouldn't be all for them.


End file.
